Running Out of Time
by Aurorawing
Summary: Two and a half years after her previous adventure, Alice is spirited away to Underland again to assist in preventing a revolt against the White Queen and locating the stolen Oraculum. But now that she's there, will she want to leave her Wonderland? T/A
1. The State of Things

Hi all, um… gee, I don't know what else to say. This is the first fanfic I've ever published, so please be nice to me, and I really hope you enjoy my first chapter.

Chapter 1

The State of Things

By Aurorawing

"Your Majesty can't be serious!"

Mirana, White Queen and ruler of all Underland, sat high above on her silver throne, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed in uncharacteristic annoyance and severity. Her look alone was enough of a reply.

The White Rabbit flinched and twitched his nose nervously, "But Ma'am, this will bring all of Underland into… into… _madness_!" he squeaked.

"Worse," snapped Tarrant Hightop, possessed by his deep Scottish brogue, "Et well descend ento chaos!"

"Calm yourself, Hatter!" shot Mirana.

Tarrant silenced himself, but he was far from calm.

Mirana rested her head in her palm and collected herself. After a pause, she sat up straight. She regained some of her fluttery composure and stated, "The only members of Underland who know about this are you two, me, and her." With every word, Mirana grew more confident and thereby more saccharine. "If this matter just stays between the four of us…"

"Too late."

Tarrant recoiled sharply with surprise as Chessur materialized near his head. A small look of sadistic satisfaction crossed the cat's face before greeting the queen, "Your Majesty."

"How long have you been here?" Tarrant demanded after recovering from the shock.

"Long enough to know more than you want me to," the cat grinned.

"Chessur," Mirana addressed, all sweetness gone, "Do you swear not to reveal this information to anyone outside of this throne room?"

Chessur put a paw to his chest, "Of course, Majesty. However, I doubt Thackery can."

The White Queen's pale skin grew a shade paler, "What do you mean?"

Chessur examined his claws in boredom, "I've come to inform you that the March Hare has stumbled upon the Red Queen's chambers and is now running about the entire palace raving about it."

* * *

Standing outside of Lord Ascot's home, Alice remained poised, refined, and perfectly silent.

But she didn't really want to be.

It had been a month since Alice had returned from China, and over two years since she had last been at the Ascot estate for anything besides business. So why was she here today?

Afternoon tea with Lady Ascot. She was riveted already.

Her sister Margaret waited beside her (acting as chaperone for the day) staring at the door curiously. "Funny," she commented, "Perhaps they didn't hear the bell?"

That was possible, but Alice was inclined to believe that this was but the first of the many digs at her Lady Ascot would pull this afternoon.

Margaret reached for the doorbell again, but before she could even touch it the door was finally opened by the butler. "Mrs. Manchester, Miss Kingsleigh, Lady Ascot is expecting you in the tea room. This way."

Margaret and Alice followed the butler into an embarrassingly large room, meant to instantly intimidate any who would wander inside. Alice wasn't intimidated though; she had been half way around the world and miles beneath the Earth and had slain a horrific monster from a wonderland.

Four women sat comfortably around a glass coffee table. Of them, Lady Ascot rose from her chair and strutted over to Alice and affectionately coddled each of her hands within her own, uttering, "Miss Kingsleigh, it is so good to see you after all this time."

Now Alice was intimidated.

She repeated her warm sentiments to Margaret before escorting them to the last remaining seats on her settee.

Alice swore it would be the rottenest, lumpiest settee she'd ever sat on, but it was not so. It was quite comfortable even. Alice's apprehension rose. There was something amiss about this situation. It was strange enough being invited to tea considering it was a well known fact that Lady Ascot never forgave any offences toward her (and rejecting her son's hand in marriage was a great offence indeed), but to be treated so well, also? Alice had to correct her posture as she was beginning to hunch over with uneasiness.

Margaret felt nothing amiss as she displayed a glorious smile and began greeting everyone, "Lady Ascot, Mrs. Fratsworth, Mrs. Columbine, Mrs. Ascot…"

Alice's head would have shot up if her posture weren't so perfect. Sitting to the right of Lady Ascot was a wisp of a girl, maybe age nineteen or twenty. She was petite in size, yet had blue eyes large enough to drown in. White gold ringlets framed her face like a cherub's and her pink rosebud lips were puckered together in curiosity over Alice.

"You've never met Mrs. Lily Ascot have you Miss Kingsleigh?" Lady Ascot questioned, "My son married her two months ago. You were still in China then; am I correct?"

Before Alice could answer, Mrs. Columbine, or as Alice liked to refer to her: Lady Ascot's boot-licker number one cut in, "I do believe you are, Lady Ascot."

"Nasty place I've heard," added boot-licker number two, Mrs. Fratsworth, "I've heard the people there are just barbaric. Not at all civilized like London."

Alice had caught up to Lady Ascot's game by now. She saw what this was, a ploy to show off Lady Ascot's beautiful pure-hearted new daughter-in-law and compare how stunningly wonderful her life was compared to Alice's. Alice wouldn't have that. She found that through her journeys in the Far East, she had grown quite cutthroat. It was necessary in business, and with her wits Alice discovered she was very good at it.

The trick to all of it was to remain polite and genteel throughout. Alice didn't mind ruining her own reputation, but it was just bad taste to act so poorly on her sister's watch.

"Actually, I must contradict, Mrs. Columbine, exactly one month ago I was sailing up Africa's western coast on my way back to London," Alice stated calmly, taking a sip of tea, "And I'm afraid I must also contradict you, Mrs. Fratsworth. China was delightful. I was never treated poorly and there wasn't an ounce of snobbery about the people I met there. But you're right, it was unlike London."

Short of Alice, everyone's smiles faltered. Alice took another sip of tea. Perhaps that wasn't subtle enough?

It was apparently subtle enough for Lily, for she was the first to speak, "How wonderful. I've always dreamt of seeing far-off places. Life must be one adventure after another for you Miss Kingsleigh." Alice blinked. Even Lily's voice was angelic. Such perfection would normally bother Alice, but this girl was so sweet Alice didn't have the heart to dislike her.

Alice deigned to grant her an embarrassed smile before Lady Ascot spoke up again, "Mrs. Ascot is exceptionally well read. She also draws, plays, sews, and has the voice of an angel." Lily blushed in humble embarrassment.

"Hamish is very, very, _very_ lucky to have her," Alice interjected within the second.

Lady Ascot's face turned red as Mrs. Fratsworth and Mrs. Columbine's jaws dropped slightly. Alice placed a scone upon her pastry plate. Oh dear, still not subtle enough? It was probably that third 'very.' Perhaps Alice was worse at this than she thought.

Lady Ascot composed herself, "Indeed." A sly, wicked smile curled up upon her face, "Marriage is such a wonderful institution…"

Alice restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She could see where this was going. Lady Ascot would begin to rub Alice's eligibility in her face and successively attempt to make her feel poorly about travelling to China since achieving a man wasn't an outcome.

"…How's your marriage going Margaret, dear?" Lady Ascot grinned.

Alice nearly choked on the scone she was eating as Margaret went white. While Alice was in China, Margaret happened to stumble in on one of her husband's trysts. It broke her heart, yet there was nothing she could do about it. Divorces were dreadfully expensive, not to mention the scar on Margaret's reputation it would leave if she were to have one. Even though such a private matter ought to have been kept just that- _private_, the tart that Lowell was spending his nights with had gone and blabbed the news so all of London knew.

Now it was Alice's face that had grown red. The nerve! How dare Lady Ascot bring up something like that!

Margaret slowly put down her teacup on its saucer and treaded around the question carefully, "Well, we're very happy, naturally," she outright lied, "Mr. Manchester is up for promotion, and just last week he bought me the most beautiful ruby bracelet."

"How sweet," cooed Mrs. Fratsworth.

Margaret put the saucer down on the coffee table and anxiously changed the subject, "The furnishings are very tasteful, Lady Ascot. Are they new?"

Convinced that she won a round, Lady Ascot leaned backward into her chair and nodded haughtily, "Indeed they are. Lord Ascot purchased them for me just before Hamish's wedding."

"They're lovely," Margaret murmured.

"Thank you. I should hope so," Lady Ascot continued, "I know I shouldn't mention it, but they were quite dear."

Alice raised an eyebrow.

"Lord Ascot is doing well then?" Mrs. Columbine queried.

"Very well lately. It's no promotion," Lady Ascot shot Margaret a superior look, "but we are perhaps more financially stable than ever before."

Alice didn't have time to bite her tongue, "Yes, I know. I was privy to your Lord husband's financial accounts and earnings when I was in China acting as his apprentice. One trade in particular I worked on about a year ago brought your husband and your family inconsiderable wealth. So in a sense, it is thanks to me that you have these lovely couches. You're welcome."

Lady Ascot stood up abruptly, fist clenched and trembling, "I think it's time you go Miss Kingsleigh!"

"Yes, I think its time to go, too," Margaret added sharply, tugging on Alice's arm. Alice was forced upward and dragged to the door, half eaten scone and pastry plate still in hand.

Margaret paused at the doorway, giving Alice the opportunity to place the plate down upon a nearby hutch. Margaret swooped around and gave a brisk curtsy to Lady Ascot and her company, "Good day ladies," before ripping Alice out of the room.

Margaret didn't wait for the butler to escort them as she stormed straight outside. Once out of Lord Ascot's manor, she released Alice and gave her a firm pinch on the arm.

"Ow!"

"What were you thinking mouthing off like that?!" hissed Margaret.

"What were you thinking, allowing Lady Ascot to walk all over you like that?!" retorted Alice, "Just because she married well doesn't give her the right to belittle those around her."

"Just because you went on some grand trip to China doesn't give you the right to embarrass people within their own home!"

"She embarrassed both of us! How can you stand up for her when she teased you so cruelly about your marriage?!"

"Grow up, Alice!"

Alice recoiled as if she were slapped. Her sister's face was red from humiliation and anger, her eyes moist from the urge to cry, yet she didn't allow a single tear to run down her face. She stood tall and proud. She and Alice stood silent for a minute.

"Ma'am, would you like me fetch your carriage?" asked a passing maid.

Margaret put on an insincere smile and nodded, "Please."

Alice couldn't take it anymore. She ran.

"Alice? Where are going? Stop! Alice?!"

Her sister called after her, but Alice could hear she wasn't being followed. As she ran she passed the gazebo where Hamish had proposed to her. She ran further and brushed up against the blood red roses Lady Ascot had planted after her dissatisfaction of the white ones two and a half years ago.

Grow up, indeed. Alice was grown up. She was a successful business woman, praised by all of London for her wits and beauty. What more did her sister want from her?

She ran further. She ran straight out of the garden and into the outlying forests. She ducked under branches and swung past vines, navigating through the hazards with the map in her mind.

Alice admitted, somewhat sourly, that dashing away wasn't the most grown up thing she had ever done. In fact it was probably the most childish she had ever been within the past twelve years. But what was a grown up anyway? Alice saw adulthood in someone who would stand up for themselves and accomplish their dreams through hard work and determination… why was this bothering her so much?

Then Alice saw it. A gnarled dead tree standing all alone in the cramped forest. It was a twisted tree; its bark travelled round and round across its girth like the ribbons on a maypole. At its base, a rabbit hole.

Alice stopped running and appreciated the sight for a moment. The portal to Underland. It had been so long ago.

Alice approached carefully. It was certainly good to see it again, but she couldn't possibly hop down there now. When she fell previously she had to slay the Jabberwocky before she was allowed to return, what if she had to do something of that magnitude to come back again? No, no, no. She just didn't have the time to go on an adventure in Underland.

Alice could feel her smile growing as she neared the hole. She wouldn't go down, but what a joy it would be just to look down, and know that just below all her friends were there, remembering her fondly.

Alice reached the rabbit hole, and the smile on her face evaporated. She looked down from where she was standing and didn't see an endless abyss, but a shallow level of dirt.

The rabbit hole had been filled in.

Alice took a step backward. She couldn't believe her eyes. She raised her hand to her head and tried to collect herself, but it that didn't work.

She looked down again, hoping to see something different, but all there was to see was Earth.

Alice's eyes had remained dry all day, but now they moistened. Big globby tears ran down her cheeks as she stared at what was once the rabbit hole.

She told herself over and over that she didn't want to go down, but now that she knew she couldn't, it was all that she wanted to do. Crying and weak, Alice stepped awkwardly into the rabbit hole, hoping that by just some miracle the dirt would disappear and she'd fall down, down, down.

But it wasn't so. Alice stood firmly in a pile of loose ground.

The way to her Wonderland was gone.

* * *

Hey, this'll come as a surprise to you: I really like receiving reviews. I'm sure this unique insight by the author will inspire you to think differently about those bold enough to publish fanfiction.


	2. The Devious Cat

Hey all, I'm really very flattered that I've received so many reviews and story alerts from all of you. First chapters are usually ignored, so I'm really happy to have so many supporters already. Honestly, I was expecting about two people to review, so, yet again, thank you so very much.

Also, I'm aware that this a pretty quick update, but don't get too excited. I'll try to update as soon as I feel comfortable with the chapter I've written, but chances are (unless I'm feeling particularly industrious this month) chapters won't be a daily occurrence. Just warning you. Don't cry tomorrow if I haven't updated.

Thank you, and without further ado (if anyone is actually reading these things), here is the new chapter!

Chapter 2

The Devious Cat

By Aurorawing

Tarrant paced erratically outside of the White Queen's throne room. She was with her advisors, working out what should be said and done about the current "situation."

The advisors weren't going to take her side. No animal was going to abide having the Red Queen free and living it up at Marmoreal, and all of the human members of staff were put off that the White Queen had informed her messenger and hatter before them.

And Tarrant didn't blame them. Pardoning the Red Queen of her crimes was simply… unpardonable! In fact the White Queen should be tried for such an unpardonable act! But then of course she would need to be pardoned for there was no one else to run Underland, but then she might just pardon the Red Queen again which would be simply unpardonable!

"Feeling a little antsy, Tarrant?" purred Chessur appearing near the throne room doors.

Tarrant fixed him with a pouting look before Chessur continued, "Perhaps you're interested in what's happening on the other side of this wall?"

"I think I can guess," Tarrant huffed.

"Oh, it doesn't look good," commented Chessur as he floated nonchalantly around the room, "News of the Red Queen's presence in Marmoreal has spread all the way to Witzend now…" Tarrant was becoming dizzy trying to follow Chessur's movements above him, "… and it seems animals in Crims have begun a revolt. So many in Crims have lost family and friends to the Red Queen after all."

Tarrant's eyes flashed to Orange and Chessur disappeared only to reappear upside down upon the ceiling.

"Don't get angry at me," sniffed Chessur, "I'm only repeating what was said in the throne room."

Tarrant's eyes reverted to green but he still wasn't very pleased.

Chessur materialized on a windowsill, "Underland is decaying. Even now it's already worse than when the Red Queen ruled," he commented blandly staring out upon the White Queen's garden.

"It isn't that bad," disagreed Tarrant.

"Oh?" questioned Chessur, "You know how I typically stay out of politics, so perhaps you have a better grasp of the situation than I."

Tarrant's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Chessur said that as if he didn't really mean it, as if he knew something that Tarrant didn't. He shrugged it off; Chessur always said things like that.

The throne room doors swung open. Tarrant and Chessur watched as the White Queen exited escorted by the members of her council. They sped away so quickly Tarrant had to run after them to catch up. Chessur had already appeared near the Queen.

Tarrant caught up and in his brisk walk asked, "Has your Majesty come to a conclusion?"

She kept her face forward and merely stated, "We are off to consult the Oraculum."

* * *

It rained on the way back home from Lord Ascot's estate. Alice and her sister did not exchange a word. When she was dropped off back home there wasn't even a hint of a goodbye.

Before entering the house, Alice removed her best shoes, now dripping with mud from the rain and dirt.

Alice's mother greeted her with a look of surprise, "My goodness. Afternoon tea was quick, then?"

"Yes," said Alice.

"Why don't you go upstairs and give yourself a bath? The rain has made you bedraggled," her mother told her kindly.

After Alice had bathed, she got into her night things. It was only half past six, yet Alice wasn't hungry, and only desired sleep. She crawled into her bed.

"Are you not feeling well, dear?" her mother asked.

"No," said Alice, "I'd like to rest."

"Alright, dear. I hope you feel better. Lord Glaswell's ball is tomorrow night you know," she reminded her softly.

Alice nodded and turned over. Alice's mother blew out the candle on her nightstand and left Alice alone, closing the door behind her.

Alice tried to sleep, but couldn't. Her mind wandered back to Underland and how she could never go there again.

A more disturbing, wretched thought entered her brain. What if there really wasn't an Underland? What if the lie she told to Hamish and the Engagement Party crowd that she had fallen and bumped her head wasn't a lie after all? Just another mad dream induced by trauma?

Alice's heart fell into the pit of her stomach.

She was so positive it was real. Every once in a while she'd see a blue butterfly and greet it as Absolem. But what if it were just some butterfly? Every time there was rumour of scandal within the royal family, she'd thank goodness that at least the Queen wasn't lobbing off heads left and right. What if it was all part of a dream? And every time she'd pass a hatter's shop, she'd remember the fond times she'd spent with her Hatter, and wonder how he was doing. Was she happily recalling a friendship with her own hallucination?

Alice stared wide eyed at the ceiling. If it were true, then she'd been mad all this time. Everything in Underland that she had learned and accomplished was false. She had really been around the bend.

Alice shut her eyes, and fought her doubting thoughts until she fell asleep.

* * *

"Gone?!" barked Bayard, "What do you mean _gone_?!"

"Vanished, missing, evaporated," The Cheshire Cat disappeared and reappeared with each word he spoke. He finally settled himself upon a mannequin on the far side of the room.

"Stolen," growled Tarrant, brooding over his hatter work station.

"By who? Who would steal the Oraculum?" Bayard wondered.

"Bluddy Behg Hid," Tarrant grumbled in Outlandish.

"Now, now, we know it wasn't the Red Queen," said Chessur.

"And why not?" Tarrant asked, in heavy Scottish Accent, "She wasn't under any sort of surveillance when she first got here. The Queen just told her to stay put en a room. How are we to know what she was up to while the Queen talked weth us?!"

"Hatter!" cried Mallymkun. Tarrant blinked and regained himself. It had been a while since he'd been mad so frequently. He nodded at the Dormouse, "I'm fine, Mally. Thank you."

"We know it wasn't the Red Queen because she just simply wouldn't have had the opportunity," stated Chessur, "For one thing, the Red Queen's chamber was in a highly patrolled part of the palace. Even if by some miracle she was able to elude the guards, there would be no way for her to enter the treasure hold where the Oraculum was kept."

"Why is that?" asked Mallymkun.

"Garmglace Gate is the one and only entrance to the treasure hold, and it is cursed" Bayard told her, "Only sworn in members of the White Queen's staff may enter. Commoners or Red Queen sympathizers would be transformed into honking geese upon entry."

"Then we have a traitor among us!" Mallymkun concluded angrily.

"So it seems," agreed Bayard.

Tarrant raised an eyebrow as a certain memory came to mind. He narrowed his eyes and turned to The Cheshire Cat, "Chess?"

"Yes, Tarrant?"

"Did _you_ steal the Oraculum?"

"What?!" Bayard growled.

Chessur sat in shock before bristling up in defence, "Certainly not! What would I want with the Oraculum?!"

"It's just that you said something strange earlier," Tarrant commented, unaware he had offended the cat, "It sound like you knew the situation was going to go from bad to worse before it did."

Chessur huffed, "Well, yes, I did, but I didn't steal it."

"You knew the Oraculum would be stolen?" Bayard questioned, menacingly approaching the mannequin Chessur sat on.

As soon as Bayard was too close, Chessur conjured himself upon a large hat across the room, "Yes, about two weeks ago I snuck a peak at the Oraculum, and saw today, The Farsnaught Day, that the Oraculum would be found missing by the White Queen."

"And you didn't _WARN ANYBODY_?!" Bayard leaped from his position and tried to catch Chessur in his jaws, but all he caught was a draught of mist. By the time Bayard landed on his feet, Chessur was curled up upon Tarrant's hat.

"Temper, temper," scolded Chessur, "What good would warning do? The Oraculum is all but absolute, no matter what I said or did, it would turn up missing today."

"Fine, then who did it?" Tarrant asked, waving Chess off from his head.

Chessur rematerialized on the ceiling, "I don't know."

"But you read the Oraculum."

"The Oraculum is very vague," Chessur sniffed, "All it revealed was that the White Queen would discover it had vanished. It didn't tell me if it was stolen, and if so, when, why, or by whom," Chessur yawned, "It's practically a piece of junk unless you want it to confirm what it has already predicted."

"Wait a moment," Mallymkun interjected, "How did _you_ get into the treasure hold? You don't work for the White Queen!"

"Anymore," Chessur finished, "I did once, you know, before the rise of the Red Queen."

"But you abandoned the White Queen on Gribling Day," Bayard pointed out sourly.

"Garmglace Gate doesn't judge, apparently," shrugged Chessur.

"Forget the bloody gate!" Mallymkun spat, waving her hands around emphatically, "There's a traitor to the White Queen running loose with the Oraculum in their hands! We need to find them and bring 'em to justice!"

"Yes, hop right on that," yawned Chessur, "I'll go do something more fruitful, like clean myself."

Chessur dissolved into the ether. Bayard growled under his breath, "_Cats_."

* * *

In a few hours, the company had left and with it the commotion. Tarrant was hunched over his sewing machine, absorbed in his work. He felt very at ease when he was working on hats. Every once in a while he would prick his finger with the needle, but over the years he had done that so much it didn't even hurt anymore. He once walked around for three days with a needle sticking out of his finger and felt not a hint of agitation.

Or was that a hat pin? A metal wire? A porcupine quill? He wasn't sure he remembered.

He also loved the sound that his machine made when he wound it. After his mother had passed away, the soft clicking and rolling of the sewing machine had become Tarrant's lullaby.

The way the materials felt in his hands was grand too. Felt, leather, satin, even wool had a most alluring feel to it. It often puzzled Tarrant how he could feel every inadequacy or perfection in hatting materials, but couldn't feel a porcupine quill sticking into his finger.

What he loved perhaps the best was the smell of the mercury. Others had told him that mercury didn't smell at all, but they were all just bonkers, weren't they? Mercury was one of the sweetest scents Tarrant seemed to have ever smelled.

"Can't imagine anyone would want to wear a hat in the state of crisis Underland is in."

All pink, fluffy, happy distractions withered and died in Tarrant's mind when Chessur entered his workshop. Maybe it was just Tarrant, but Chessur had been bothering him a lot lately. And while Tarrant never particularly liked to be bothered, Chessur was one of the last Underland inhabitants Tarrant would like to be bothered by. He wasn't quite a dear friend, as Chess tended to do what suited him best and no one else, yet he wasn't an enemy… Tarrant thought.

Chessur was the only inhabitant in Wonderland short of the Red Queen and Knave that put Tarrant constantly on edge. But maybe that was just because he could disappear and reappear… and always wore that disturbing smile… and constantly acted like he knew something Tarrant didn't… and had a strange fetish for Tarrant's hat.

Chessur was creepy.

"What is it, Chess?" Tarrant asked, still a little peeved about his work time being interrupted.

"Nothing in particular," said Chessur as he did slow aerial flips around the room.

"Then perhaps you should leave me to my work then, hm?"

"Pity about all of Underland turning upside down… or right side up as it were…"

Tarrant's eyebrows furrowed together, "Aye…"

"This could all end up worse than the Red Queen's rule…"

"Does thes have a point, Chess?" asked Tarrant, becoming quite put off by all the pessimism.

"Oh, I was just thinking that it was too bad we don't have a champion this time around."

Tarrant's eyes grew wide and nothing short of the most beautiful name danced on his lips, "Alice."

"Yes, if we had a champion, things would be sure to get done," Chessur purred as he settled himself near a top hat.

Was Chessur proposing what Tarrant thought he was proposing?

Chessur began to knead the hat with his claws, "No doubt she'd be able to discover where the Oraculum went…"

"How?"

"She's the champion, it would come naturally!" Chessur shrugged, "And even if she doesn't, perhaps this mystery champion could at least convince her Majesty that the Red Queen's presence outside of the Outlands isn't permissible."

Tarrant found himself chewing on the bandages on his thumb. It all sounded so wonderful. A perfectly delightful plan. However, any plan that would bring Alice back into Underland seemed perfectly delightful to Tarrant. Nothing was better than Alice, not even hats or the smell of mercury. Alice smelled ten, no thirty, no a hundred times sweeter than mercury smelled!

Tarrant drew his hands away from his mouth and began twiddling his fingers around as if they were massaging the air, "That does sound… ideal," Tarrant admitted in his anxiousness, "It's just that… Champions are so very hard to come by…"

Chessur grinned a little wider and stopped puncturing the top hat, "You're right Tarrant, I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps we should just go and fetch the one we have?"

* * *

For a third time, thanks so much to all of you for reviewing. I'm positively giddy every time I get an e-mail now, because I know it's someone saying in one way or another how they enjoyed my first chapter, and I hope all of you found this one interesting too.

Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear some feedback!


	3. Through the Looking Glass

Wow, my last chapter has only been up for a day and my reviews have already doubled! Thanks guys! However, I feel a little disturbed that I now officially have more "story alert" patrons than I do actual reviews, but I guess that's normal? It's just sort of sad considering it isn't even "favourite story," just "story alert." Doesn't that seem as if you don't want to admit you like my story, it's just some sort of guilty pleasure you take part in that only you (and I) know about? But whatever, I'm grateful anyway. Thanks for showing in your own secretive little way that you enjoy my story. Really.

Now that you're all done ignoring this, I hope you enjoy my third chapter.

Chapter 3

Through the Looking Glass

By Aurorawing

"Ouch."

Alice cringed as her mother tweaked her hair just a little too hard.

"Sorry," apologized her mother with hints of agitation, "Your hair is just being stubborn this evening."

Alice sighed and resumed looking glumly into her vanity mirror. Tonight was Lord Glaswell's ball, and her mother was busy fixing Alice's hair as a few wild strands had burst from her bun since the maid had done it. And judging from the expression Alice saw reflected in the looking glass, her mother was becoming quite fed up with the chore.

Alice examined at her own reflection. She had the stunning light blue ball gown, the pristine new gloves, the bejewelled French comb, yet Alice wasn't feeling beautiful at all. She wasn't even feeling well.

The red puffiness that plagued her under eyes as a teenager had come back after a two and a half year absence. She hadn't slept well the night before. Her stomach felt queasy at the prospect of seeing Lady Ascot this evening, and even more intimidating, her sister.

At least Alice felt better about the rabbit hole incident, and whether Underland was real or not…

Mostly…

Sort of…

Alice slumped. Well, not at all actually.

Her brain told her she had gone mad, but since she was the only one to know about it, she should forget Wonderland and continue life per usual. No one had to know she had been living on a dream for the past couple years.

However her heart assured her that she hadn't dreamt it up. Something had happened in Underland, and someone had blocked the rabbit hole for one reason or another. Maybe it was blocked to prevent her from entering Wonderland, or to prevent her friends from reaching her.

Neither were particularly happy thoughts.

"There!" her mother said, patting Alice's half-up hair, "That should do it. Come now, Alice. We're late as it is."

* * *

Tarrant's fingers twitched erratically as he peered around a bishop-shaped pillar. He looked anxiously down and up the stretching hall, double checking for guards, or worse, the Queen.

"I told you there'd be no one around," said Chessur, floating out into the open and drifting casually toward a grandiose silver door.

Tarrant warily stepped out, but as soon as he was out from cover, he dashed frantically toward Chessur. He reached for the knob, but his hand froze up. His entire body convulsed with apprehension before turning on Chessur.

"This doesn't seem right, Chess. In fact, this seems very un-right. This is a very un-right plan," twittered Tarrant. Chessur rolled his eyes. Tarrant went on, "We shouldn't be breaking into Her Majesty's bedroom! It's very, very un-right!"

"Scaredy cat," scolded Chessur.

"Isn't this door enchanted?" Tarrant fidgeted, "What if I touch the door and it curses me?!"

"Only those who wish to steal from the Queen or harm her are affected by the enchantment," said Chessur.

"What are the effects of said enchantment?"

"It will cause your ears to grow exceptionally large, turn you chartreuse, and teleport you into the dungeon where you'll be dealt with later," Chessur grinned.

Tarrant reeled away from the doorknob.

"Hmph. Baby."

"You open it then!" Tarrant challenged.

Chessur blinked. "Fine." The cat unfolded his arms and grasped the doorknob, twisted, and pushed the door open.

Chess fixed Tarrant with a look of triumph, "See?" As soon as he spoke he vanished from sight in a puff of smoke.

Tarrant waited a moment, but when Chessur didn't reappear he began to panic. "Chess?! _Chess_?!!" He was cursed!!

"Just kidding," Chessur chuckled, reappearing inside of the Queen's room.

Tarrant went pink from embarrassment and anger. He marched inside the White Queen's room and shut the door firmly behind him. "That wasn't funny, Chess!" he hissed.

Marmoreal Castle was marked by snow-white walls, icy marble floors, cold unfeeling, open spaces, and a heavy chess motif. Here, none of what defined the palace was present. Here, it was cluttered, soft, warm, and completely devoid of any rooks whatsoever. Browns, oranges, and greens took the place of what was uniformly white, and while by no accounts messy, the White Queen's room left very little space exposed. Bookcases, coffee tables, night stands, and a large jutting vanity limited movement in the room.

Chessur glided over to the largest wall in the boudoir. There hung a gloriously large mirror. It took up easily half the wall in height and stretched at least three metres in length. Precise and intricate wrought iron vines and leaves encased the mirror, dotted with tiny flowers made out of sparkling jewels. Two golden candelabra hung on each of its sides; their light giving the looking glass an ethereal glow.

"The Loctryce Mirror…" Chessur purred, "… is the quickest way to Alice."

Tarrant still wasn't fully comfortable with the situation, "That may be, but might it not be better just to travel through the rabbit hole?"

"The rabbit hole is half a day's walk from here," Chess said, eyes glimmering in the candlelight, "What's more it only leads to one location; a location that Alice is most likely not at," Chess looked back up, "The Loctryce Mirror locates and reveals whomever the viewer wishes to see, and can bring them to said person through the nearest looking glass."

Overwhelmed with curiosity, Tarrant took a step forward. The mirror clouded over. When the fog dispersed, Tarrant gasped as his heart jumped into his throat.

There Alice sat. She was somewhere in a small overly-cushioned space. There was a small, curtained window to her left where Tarrant could see the grassy fields of Otherland whooshing by. Was she in a carriage? Sitting across from her was an older woman with deep chocolate eyes identical to Alice's. Was she her mother, perhaps?

Tarrant focused his attention onto Alice. She had grown, but she still retained her youthful beauty. Her hair was a little longer, and she was maybe a tad healthier than last time, but other than that she looked much the same. Same old, Alice. Had she retained her muchness? Had she found out why a raven is like a writing desk? Did she think about him, like he thought about her?

Tarrant no longer cared about breaking into the White Queen's bedroom. He didn't care that the Oraculum was missing. He didn't even care that the Red Queen was no longer banished. Alice was there. Right there. If he could just reach out and touch her.

He could.

"Alright, Chessur. How do we get to her?"

* * *

Alice exited the carriage with her mother and entered Lord Glaswell's home. Lord Archibald Glaswell was a colleague of Lord Ascot. A very old colleague.

Apparently when Lord Ascot needed money in his youth to start a business that his parents didn't approve of, Lord Glaswell stepped in and lent him the money under the table. What the business was, Alice had no idea, what she did know was that it failed. However, Lord Ascot and Lord Glaswell had remained friends ever since.

Alice knew of Lord Glaswell as a child, but didn't meet him until she had returned from China. It was a short talk, but Lord Glaswell was clearly fond of her. 'Wit and spunk counts for everything to Archibald,' Lord Ascot confided to her after their talk, 'and you, my dear, have it in spades.'

Alice, however, was not quite so fond of the lord. It didn't take long to discover that Glaswell was controlling, and possessed by the need to have everything just so. Alice didn't feel that wanting perfection was bad, but coupled with the power and means to enforce one's own idea of perfection onto others was disconcerting.

She and her mother walked briskly through the entry hall and passed through the open double doors out into the ballroom. The festivities were already in full swing as dozens of young couples danced quadrille around the ballroom floor. Lining each wall of the room were sets of chairs where ladies were meant to sit until asked to dance. Walls barren of chairs were taken up by the men at the ball, nattering along until a young lady caught their eye, to which they would strut over to them and ask their hand for a waltz or the next quadrille.

A nearby butler handed Alice a tag. She half-grimaced at the sight. It was a dance card. Every gentleman that shared a dance with a lady would write his name down on her card. It was meant to be used so one could keep track of which suitor one would be dancing with and when. However the system was frequently abused by young women who compared and boasted about who was the most popular that evening.

Alice's mother anxiously mumbled beside her, "I don't see any available seats…"

"Miss Kingsleigh!"

Alice and her mother turned around to see Lord Glaswell settled in the most luxurious chair around the dance floor. Normally men did not sit during balls, yet Lord Glaswell was so old and frail-looking, it seemed cruel not to allow him a seat.

Alice waded through the crowd to Lord Glaswell and greeted him with a curtsy, "Your Lordship."

"Miss Kingsleigh, it's good to see you again!" He spoke with gusto, but every word wheezed out of him as if they were his final wishes. "Mrs. Kingsleigh, I presume?" Lord Glaswell addressed to Alice's mother.

"Mrs. Helen Kingsleigh," she said.

Lord Glaswell extended his trembling palm and kissed her knucles, "A pleasure."

Lord Glaswell reclined back into his seat and told them, "If you two are in need of a place to sit…" he paused as he waved his arm around at two seats to his right, "… these ones are free to use." It was phrased as an offer, but Alice could tell a command when she heard one.

Alice's mother thanked him and went for her seat.

"Sit near me, Miss Kingsleigh. I could use the good conversation," he bid.

Alice curtsied and complied. She didn't much like being ordered around, but Alice felt she had made enough enemies yesterday. If she could remain demure to Lord Glaswell's blunt behaviour for just a few hours, perhaps she could escape this ball without another scandal on her hands.

She and Lord Glaswell chatted for a few minutes on various topics. Business, China, money, and sailing. Despite the company, Alice was glad for the banter. Balls could be very boring, especially for her. Only men who did not know Alice personally ever asked her to dance, and as soon as they learned that she worked instead of sitting at home all day embroidering, she never heard from them again.

But that was fine. After Underland, all men seemed dull in comparison…

As soon as their dialogue ended about the economy, Lord Ascot squinted his eyes at a grandfather clock across the room. He frowned.

"Is something wrong, My Lord?" Alice questioned.

"Yes," Lord Glaswell said rather determinedly, "You have been sitting here for three quarters of an hour and not a single man has asked you to dance!"

Alice inwardly scowled. The exact subject she'd rather have left alone had been brought up.

"I fear I'm not very popular among the gentlemen," Alice phrased carefully.

"Bah!" Lord Glaswell croaked, "Don't act humble. It isn't like you."

Alice wasn't being humble.

"You're beautiful, you're educated, and you have personality," Lord Glaswell told her firmly, "They must just think you're preoccupied talking to an old goat like me. Laurence!" he called out to a young man halfway across the room.

The well groomed, yet positively normal young man stopped chatting to his peers and walked over to Lord Glaswell's seat, "Yes, Your Lordship?"

"Miss Kingsleigh, this is my grandson Laurence, my heir. Laurence, this is Miss Alice Kingsleigh."

"A pleasure," Laurence said congenially with a bow.

"Likewise," Alice replied insincerely.

"Will you do me the honour to dance with me, Miss Kingsleigh?" Laurence asked, extending his hand toward her. It was as if he already knew what his grandfather's plans were before he had to be told.

"With pleasure, sir," she nodded, reciting off the etiquette script that had been instilled in her mind ever since she was a child. She handed him her card and he escorted her out to the dance floor. Alice had a sinking feeling in her stomach. So this was Lord Glaswell's heir, then? Alice couldn't help but feel she was being set up.

* * *

"Oh dear," Tarrant squeaked, hovering over a large old man that keeled over from the shock of seeing Tarrant climb out a looking glass.

Chessur looked through the mirror from Underland and echoed Tarrant's sentiments, "Oh my. Well, he'll be alright… probably."

Tarrant studied the room he was in, and he had to say, he rather liked it. This room was filled with hats; shelves of them! Mostly men's hats, but some smaller female ones were here and there. More importantly, they were very fine hats. They weren't all quite up to Tarrant's quality, but all in all they were still very fine hats.

Each hat had pinned to it a tag bearing a number. Tarrant mused as to what they could possibly mean. They weren't sizes, or hatter clan numbers…

A well dressed man strolled through the open door. Fortunately, the counter Tarrant stood behind concealed the comatose fellow below him. Tarrant tried to act as normal as possible as the man placed his top hat in front of him. "I'd like to check this in."

Tarrant looked from side to side, trying to find some sort of clue that would tip him off about what the man could possibly mean. He glanced back at the mirror to see if Chessur would be of any help, but all he met was his own reflection.

_Check a hat in_? Like for an inn? Was this an inn for hats? Was the unconscious man at Tarrant's feet a hat innkeeper? Sounded silly, but who was Tarrant to question the customs of Otherland?

"I said I'd like to check this in, please," the man repeated.

"Of course, of course," Tarrant chuckled, getting into character. He scanned the shelves for an open slot, tapping his index finger on his lips, "Ah! Room 108 is open, sir. Your hat will feel very comfortable there, sir" he declared with an affable smile, picking up the hat and sliding it in, "Now that'll be… um, er…" Tarrant leaned over the counter and whispered very quietly, "Um… what does one usually charge for checking in their hat?"

"Charge?!" cried the man, who had been staring at Tarrant strangely ever since he began talking, "No one is ever charged for checking in a _hat_!"

"Oh, really? Okay then, have a nice evening," bid Tarrant with a wave.

The gentleman was stunned into silence, but eventually nodded, "Um, you as well." He cautiously took a card marked 108 and slowly backed out of the room. Tarrant could just hear the mumblings of "madman," before he was out of earshot.

"Not very friendly, was he?" Chessur said, reappearing in the mirror.

Tarrant looked up at him, "You're not coming too?"

"I need to stay in Underland and keep the portal open," Chessur explained, "If no one is here wishing to be somewhere else, the looking glass will just turn back into a regular mirror and you'll be stuck there in Otherland."

Tarrant winced. As his encounter with the Otherland inhabitant just showed, he didn't quite fit in well with the populace. Yes, Chessur's plan was for the best.

"I'll be here keeping the portal open," reassured Chessur, "Just be quick about fetching Alice. I get bored so easily and the Queen has to enter her room eventually, and I'd rather not be here when she does."

Tarrant nodded and exited the room. He looked about. No one was around at all. Tarrant could understand why. It was a boring room, with very little furnishings or design. The only significant landmarks he could see were a big crystal chandelier, several doors leading to what could only hopefully be more interesting rooms, and a large, hourglass-shaped staircase that diverged into two other doorways above.

What caught Tarrant's attention the most were a pair large open double doors across the hall. Through the doors he could see people dressed in many different colours spinning about in some sort of strange dance. Tarrant stepped closer. No one noticed him at all as he peered around the frame.

A party was going on, Tarrant surmised, but as to what all the celebration was about, he couldn't hazard a guess.

Tarrant narrowed his eyes and began to zero in on the faces in the crowd. Alice was bound to be around here somewhere, right? He examined those sitting, standing, and dancing.

Tarrant frowned. He didn't see her. He looked again, but to no avail.

Before he could check for a third time, a podgy woman began walking toward the doorway he was concealed behind.

He needed to hide. Tarrant jumped away from the door and hid himself in a crouch behind the curving staircase. As the large lady passed him without notice, he peered over the fifth step and through the banister to see her enter another room. He couldn't see much of the room from his position, just the end of a table with some plates on it.

Tarrant was just about to investigate further when he was stopped by another figure exiting the room. She was dressed in a long periwinkle gown, with her golden curls put half-up in a loose woven bun on the back of her head.

Tarrant's heart skipped a beat. It was Alice! She was here! Should he approach her now?

Tarrant was nothing but thrilled until he saw her expression. She was angry. Her bistre eyes were narrowed dangerously and her mouth was twisted into a scowl. Fuming and furious (frumious!) she stormed out of the room. What had happened? Was she alright?

Tarrant nearly stepped out and greeted her until a claw of a hand jutting from a sour faced young man caught her arm and dragged her to the other side of the staircase.

"Let me go!" she demanded, as she was pulled away from sight.

* * *

Okay, I'm really sorry that the ending to this chapter was so poorly written. I wrote an entirely different scenario and began working on its conclusion in the fourth chapter, but then half way through I decided I didn't like it and scrapped the entire thing and typed out this.

Which leads me to the other bad news: you know how I said I probably wouldn't be updating daily, yet I seem to be proving myself wrong by updating daily anyway? Well this time, it would take a miracle if you saw a new chapter tomorrow considering I scrapped the entire fourth chapter and I have a huge project due in my ART 140 class that I need to get done so… yeah.

And then it gets worse (for you guys) because I'm going to Florida (Disneyworld!) for Spring Break with my friends and won't be updating for a week. So, er… heads up.

Well, supposing you didn't just give up on me now that you know I'm not going to be updating this frequently anymore, I'd love to have some reviews… please?


	4. The Otherland Ball

Aw, some were guilt-tripped into actually reviewing. That's so sweet of you, really. However, there were also some of you who probably saw past my guilt trip scheme and refused to review just to spite me. And then there were others who probably just didn't have the time to review. Hey, that's fair, I understand, I just hope we can all still be friends.

If any were confused, I won't be leaving for Florida until Friday. Then I won't update for a week. For those who misunderstood and thought I wouldn't be updating for another week at the time I posted my third chapter, I hope you're pleasantly surprised.

Lastly, a special amount of love going out to Veritas Found for introducing me to my new favourite word: Adorkable. Oh Lord, was there ever a more perfect word used to describe how I see Tarrant? Thank you very much, your review made my day.

Please enjoy the fourth chapter everybody!

Chapter 4

The Otherland Ball

By Aurorawing

This was silly.

Within the past hour Alice had shared only two dances with Laurence, yet she was subjected to his biography and accomplishments, learned of his most charming personality traits, and had been hinted to about how much money he would inherit once he became the next Right Honourable Earl. It would seem that Lord Glaswell's heir was very full of himself; however, it was not he who went into such gruesome detail about his life, but his grandfather.

"He studied at Oxford, you know," Lord Glaswell went on, "Top of his class, too…"

Laurence's face strained as his grandfather continued talking. He had been forced to stand there and endure his grandfather's incessant praises for just as long as Alice had. She could tell by the end of the first dance they shared that he wasn't interested in her (and she in him), but propriety and fear kept Laurence's feet glued to the floor. Who knew how Lord Glaswell would react if Laurence were to simply say he didn't like her?

Alice just felt embarrassed at this point. She felt deeply sorry for Laurence, but she was also mortified that she was yet again trapped by a matchmaking service she didn't sign up for. Was it so horrible to choose who one wanted to marry on one's own?

"Mother, there you are."

Lord Glaswell stopped talking as Margaret approached with a bitter-faced Lowell in tow. She bent down and gave her mother's cheek a kiss as Lowell exchanged pleasantries with Lord Glaswell.

Alice looked over hopefully at her sister. Margaret's eyes caught hers for a second before she turned away and continued chatting with their mother.

Alice frowned. Margaret was still upset with her. Alice slumped in her chair. Now who needed to grow up? Honestly, Margaret yelled at Alice and even pinched her, yet Alice was more than willing to let bygones be bygones. Margaret usually didn't hold grudges like this…

She sat herself in an open chair by their mother and continued to ignore Alice to the best of her ability. Lowell stooped down to his wife's ear and murmured just loud enough for Alice to hear, "I'm going off to greet my friends and the Ascot's. Stay here."

Margaret's eyes grew wide and she grabbed her husband's arm, "Please don't."

"Stop that," Lowell ordered, ripping his sleeve out of her grasp, "Just stay here."

Margaret reluctantly nodded. Lowell left and to Alice's shock Margaret began to quietly cry.

"Margaret! What's wrong?" their mother asked, leaning over to her.

Alice wanted to know as well. Lady Ascot's jibe against her marriage was cruel, but not that bad. Margaret surely would've gotten over it by now. No, this was something different.

"As I was saying, Miss Kingsleigh, Laurence here graduated at the top of his class!" Lord Glaswell declared, tearing Alice's attention away from her sister.

"Miss Kingsleigh, might I ask you for this dance?" Laurence interjected desperately, capping his grandfather's spiel. This was the second time Laurence requested Alice to dance with him simply to rid himself of Lord Glaswell's ceaseless yammering. In all honesty, she didn't blame him.

Alice turned to check on Margaret and her mother. They were talking, but they spoke in such hushed tones. Alice couldn't make out was what being said. Unable to hear her sister's dilemma and unwilling to listen to Lord Glaswell's ramblings, Alice nodded to Laurence, "Gladly."

He took Alice's hand and escorted her out to the dance floor.

They assumed their positions as the band queued up. Alice was concerned with what could have possibly upset her sister so badly, but she was sure her mother would tell her all about it later once they arrived home. She cleared her mind of the matter.

Just before the first note was played, Alice caught the briefest snippet of conversation:

"…there, she's the one that insulted Lady Ascot…"

Alice's ears pricked up and the music began. She didn't turn her head around, but she kept her ears open to the conversation going on behind her as she began to dance.

"… in her own home? After she'd been kind enough to even invite her to tea? The nerve!"

"Apparently she's under the impression she's above the rest of us because she works for Lord Ascot."

Alice's stomach curdled. They were talking about her. They didn't even bother to whisper in their gossip, they said it out loud, and clear enough for Alice to hear them from four metres away!

"Poor Lady Ascot. I'd be mortified if that happened to me."

Alice's face flushed red. Poor Lady Ascot indeed!

As the dance called for Alice to spin around, she twirled and caught the faces of the two tittle-tattlers. She fully expected for the two hens to be Mrs. Fratsworth and Mrs. Columbine, but it was two ladies that Alice hadn't even met before. She endured their pointed glares until she faced away from them again.

Alice was astonished. How did it come to be that two women she didn't even know had come to hear of an event that took place behind closed doors?

"And her sister didn't do anything to stop her?"

The woman scoffed, "Of course not. Her sister is Mrs. Manchester."

The other crone gasped, appalled, "The Mrs. Manchester with that rogue of a husband?"

"The same. She can't even keep her husband in line, what makes you think she can control such a harpy of a sister?"

Alice felt as if she had just been hit with a brick.

Laurence led Alice away from the duo and around the room as the dance commenced. As Alice circled the ball, she discovered that the two older ladies weren't the only ones talking. Her and her sister's names were being whispered everywhere in scandalized tones.

Shameful, airs, disgraceful, arrogant, rude, reprehensible, dreadful, uncouth, awful, and a dozen other taunts coupled with her family's name echoed around the room as Alice passed the seats of the respectable ladies.

Had the entire ball been informed of yesterday's afternoon tea and did they all judge her so harshly for it?

Alice danced full circle and landed right back in front of the two old women.

"Sickening," one spat.

"Are you alright, Miss Kingsleigh?" Laurence asked, seeing her face.

All colour had been drained out of Alice. Her jaw was clenched shut and her arms were trembling. No wonder Margaret had been crying; all of London despised them and it was all Alice's fault. This could ruin them socially forever.

"No," Alice replied to Laurence's question dropping her limbs and stepping away, "I don't feel well. I… I think I need a drink of water."

Laurence left the path of oncoming dancers and told her considerately, "Well, the refreshment room is just across the hall."

Alice swung around and headed for the ballroom exit.

"Do you need an escort?" Laurence added.

"No. No!" she called back at him, refusing to even turn around. She just needed to leave this room. She could feel the vast ocean of contempt around her. The digs against Alice and her family hit her like a stormy torrent and the glares that followed her out of the ballroom smarted more than shark bites. She was drowning.

Now she understood why Margaret hadn't forgiven her. Alice wouldn't forgive herself either. If she had known her sharp tongue would have caused this much commotion she would have tried much harder to bite it.

Alice flew out of the ballroom. She still was suffocating. Water would help, but at this point if she so much stumbled upon a flask of rum she would down it in a heartbeat.

Alice marched across the entrance hall past the staircase and went straight into the refreshment room. It was nearly empty except for two individuals…

Alice skidded to a halt as Lowell tore himself off a young woman.

The entire room stood motionless for a minute. Alice was too aghast to even speak and Lowell knew he had been caught fooling around by his sister-in-law again. There was nothing but silence.

The floozy was the first to break the long pause by squealing with embarrassment and running out of the refreshment room at full speed. Lowell's eyes followed her disappointedly.

All of a sudden, Alice stopped feeling sorry. Any hatred she felt in the ballroom didn't even begin to compare to the hatred she felt for Lowell. For God's sake his wife just became ostracized by every respectable person in London and what was he doing? Kissing some tart!

Alice strutted over and punched him. Hard. So hard he recoiled a few steps.

"How dare you?!" Alice growled deeply as Lowell cupped his bruised cheek, "After all that Margaret's been through? How _dare_ you?!" Alice tried to deliver another right hook, but this time Lowell dodged. Alice didn't care; she just fixed him with a glare and declared, "You'll pay for it this time Lowell." She spun around, only to be halted by a firm grasp around her arm.

"You can't tell your sister!" ordered Lowell, a dangerous fear flickering in his eyes, "You can't!"

Alice wasn't going to tell Margaret. As if she hadn't already had a bad enough day. No, Alice wasn't sure what she was going to do to Lowell, but once she decided he was going to regret ever dishonouring his wedding vows.

"Stop that!" Alice hissed as she ripped her arm away and tried to escape again.

"Oh no you don't!" Lowell barked, reaching out yet again to stop her.

He didn't get the opportunity however as the overweight Mrs. Hilltop waddled into the refreshment room. Lowell quickly withdrew his hand. Mrs. Hilltop paid them no mind as she picked up her pastry plate and began mindlessly forking tasty morsels onto it.

Alice took this opportunity and left the refreshment room. She was going to go straight to her mother and Margaret and demand they all leave at once. Lowell could crawl home for all she cared.

She hadn't stepped four feet away from the door when Lowell's fingers wrapped around her wrist. He yanked her off behind the staircase.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

Lowell pinned her up against the side of the staircase with his body. It wasn't sexual by any means, but it was still very, very threatening. Alice struggled and tried to push him away from her, but it was no use.

"You are not to tell your sister of this, do you understand?" When Alice didn't reply immediately, he slapped her across the face, "Do you _understand_?!"

All of a sudden the weight of Lowell's body was peeled off of her. He flew to the ground, tackled by a streak of orange, brown, and pink. The slap had made her slightly dizzy and she wobbled to the floor.

She caught herself on her hands and knees. She blinked a few times and regained her focus, but what she focused on wasn't the tussle going on beside her, but a terribly familiar object right in front of her.

Ignoring the thuds and cracks beside her, Alice picked up the object and stared at it in wide-eyed curiosity. It was a large brown hat with a tea rose coloured ribbon. It was very ornately decorated with lace, hat pins, a peacock feathers, and a strange tag reading 10/6 on it.

Of course Alice recognized it immediately, but she simply couldn't believe what she was seeing. Had Lowell really slapped her that hard? She shook her head. No. This was here. This was her Hatter's hat.

Her head swung over to see who had come to her rescue. Hunched over Lowell and facing away from Alice was someone who deeply resembled the pale ginger man from her dreams. He was also punching the living daylights out of her assaulter.

Alice's breathing became very shallow.

"Hatter?" she called softly.

The man didn't falter as he carried on beating Lowell's face into the ground.

"Hatter?!" she cried a little more desperately.

Upon finally hearing her voice, the man froze mid-swing.

Alice watched silently as he sat up straight. His clenched fists went limp on his wrists. He slowly turned around and greeted her with his large green eyes and sheepish gap-toothed grin, "Hello, Alice."

Alice rose from her crouch, hat in hand, and Hatter followed suit. She approached him slowly, refusing to even blink lest he disappear. She dared to lay the tips of her fingers on his face. He felt real…

"Is it really you?" she asked.

Hatter nodded, and Alice wrapped her arms around him in an embrace.

She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't believe it! He was here, Underland was real and she wasn't insane. Every awful event that occurred tonight almost evaporated away with her elatedness. How amazing it was to feel so completely alone not a minute ago and then feel a second later that one had all the friends in the world.

The Hatter reacted awkwardly to her hug, standing perfectly stiff. He anxiously whispered while in her embrace, "Alice. Don't you think we should leave before somebody sees…?"

Alice looked up and saw him motioning with his eyes to Lowell's bruised and battered body in the corner.

Alice released him, "Yes. Yes, you're right." The woman Lowell was feeling up would be checking on him eventually. It was best they leave before she found them.

"This way," Hatter gently took her hand and led her into the empty hat check room.

Hatter shut the door behind him. Alice still hadn't gotten over that he was here! She had been fretting so desperately ever since she'd seen the rabbit hole… Wait, the rabbit hole…

"Hatter, how did you get here?" she questioned.

Hatter got behind the counter and said, "Well…"

"Hello, Alice!" chirped Chessur, appearing in the mirror behind Hatter.

"Oh! Chessur!" Alice smiled. Having Chessur appear in a looking glass was strange, but Alice figured it would be far stranger if Chessur arrived in any normal way.

"I take it everything went smoothly with no complications," Chessur mentioned, eyeing the red mark growing across Alice's cheek.

"Yes, well…" Hatter mumbled.

"Have you told her about the Red Queen, yet?" Chessur interrupted.

Alice eyebrows furrowed, "What about the Red Queen?"

Hatter opened his mouth, but it was Chessur who answered, "She's back in Underland. The White Queen pardoned her and now she resides at Marmoreal."

What? After all that work to dethrone her, the White Queen just let the Red Queen waltz back into Underland? That didn't sound right. The White Queen wouldn't do something like that…

"As you can imagine, the creatures of Underland are ready to revolt," Chessur continued, "Which is why we want you to come back."

Alice looked between Chessur and Hatter in surprise, "Me?" she asked, "What could I possibly do?"

"You-"

"You can persuade the White Queen to re-banish The Red," Chessur interrupted once more. Hatter was becoming quite cross with being cut off so much, but Chessur was (probably) oblivious.

Alice pursed her lips. Chessur sounded sure, but Alice wasn't so positive she could convince anybody to do anything, especially the White Queen. All in all it seemed like a pretty flimsy excuse to go to Underland.

'_Don't be stupid, Alice!'_ a part of her exclaimed; a part that she learned to ignore in China as it tended to get in the way of using logic and doing business. That part of her reminded her of all the friends she had in Underland and how awful London was in comparison.

It was a good argument, too. Her friends said they needed her, who needed her here? No one liked her here except crusty old business men, and all she did was ruin her family's lives with her big mouth.

Alice had to restrain the grimace that threatened to appear on her face. It was almost disappointing how easily Alice convinced herself that going to Underland would be better. In fact, the only thing that restrained her from going was her sister. Alice felt the deep need to apologize to her and to make things right again… but on the other hand, just how desperate were things in Underland? What if the time it took to earn her sister's forgiveness was enough time for Underland to enter into an uprising?

Alice had decided.

She raised her head. Tarrant was nervously twiddling with his fingers as Chessur's calm confident gaze bore into her. She asked once more, "Are you sure I can help?"

"Yes!" they both cried in unison.

Alice beamed, "Then I'll go."

Tarrant burst into a smile and leaped triumphantly three feet into the air, hints of Futterwacken about his legs.

Alice laughed, but quickly warned "I can only stay for a little while, though. I need to get back here eventually. I have things to do."

Tarrant's grin faltered a tad, but it returned fully as he nodded, "Alright." He held his hand out from behind the counter, "Let's go."

"Where? … Through the looking glass?" Alice figured out.

"Yes!" Tarrant bobbed his head enthusiastically, "A fine way to travel. A great way to get where you need to be. The best mode of transportation since hat, I daresay!"

Alice smiled as he led her around the counter. She stopped and gasped at the unconscious man on the ground.

"Oh, yes, that's right. Mind the chap," Hatter chuckled.

Alice carefully stepped over the body. "Did you knock out every man you met here?" she joked.

Of course, Hatter being Hatter took the question seriously and thought about it for a moment, "No, there was one man I'm sure is still quite conscious… I think. Do they serve spirits at Otherland parties?"

Alice drew closer to the mirror and hesitated. Surely this was much too small to fit through? Chessur urged her from the other side, "Just stick your hand through. I'll pull you through. It won't hurt."

Alice obeyed and warily stuck her fingers through the mirror. It transfixed her for a moment, but then she quickly submerged her whole hand. Alice was sucked out of Hatter's grasp as she flew into the mirror, the looking glass stretching to accommodate Alice's volume as well as her ball gown's.

She fell about two feet out onto soft carpet, her hand cradled by Chessur's paw. Tarrant squeezed himself through the mirror and plopped out much less gracefully than Alice did.

"Welcome back," Chessur purred.

* * *

Yay, I'm finally done with chapter four! Woohoo! For some reason this chapter was really hard to write. Stuff would sound awkward when I wrote it but then would sound fine when I read it later on, and paragraphs I wrote that I thought were genius I eventually had to cut because they turned out to be rubbish. Ah well, at least now its all done and Alice is finally back in Underland! Care to review and tell me about it?


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